


Rapture

by sparkle-fingers (sundayrain26)



Series: Rhinktober 2020 [5]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Daddy Kink, Fingering, M/M, Spanking, could be trans Link, very vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundayrain26/pseuds/sparkle-fingers
Summary: What happens when good boys want what the bad boys get?
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Rhinktober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949653
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> Day five prompt: spanking

It's no secret Link likes being spanked. Hell, he's sure most of their regular viewers are aware by now. What's funny is how long Rhett let spanking be a punishment. What's to deter a bad boy when he'll wind up getting what he wants anyway?

He may not have been a bad boy to deserve this, but that doesn't mean they can't _pretend_.

Rhett's got him over his lap, sprawled across the bed. The feeling of Link getting wetter and wetter against his leg is icing on the cake, watching his shapely ass grow pink and warm. A little irregularity to start, keep Link on his toes but he falls into a steady rhythm soon enough.

The sound of skin cracking against skin becomes a staccato soundtrack decorated with gasps and whines and bitten off moans.

He lets him writhe around, grind against his thigh, anything his heart desires. The flushed, hot flesh extends down the back of his quivering thighs. His tempo slows but he traces patterns over near-glowing skin, aimless until it isn't and he's two knuckles deep in his boy. "That's it, baby, you gonna be a good boy and come for daddy now, hm?"

His face dripping tears and sweat, he's beyond coherent words, just babbles frantically as he undulates between Rhett's fingers and his already slick soaked thigh.

The covers are death gripped in his fists as he comes, a shrill cry shattering the prevailing hum of noise.

"Good job, my baby boy, such a good boy."

Gentle adulation as he keens through the aftershocks, still rocking slowly to and fro, mindless in a haze of rapture.


End file.
